Мэри Дэвидсон - Canis Royal Bridefight

“The lady is too kind. If you will permit a bold query, does your striking coloring come from your sire or your dam?”

“Um…my mom’s Black Irish, if that’s what you mean.”

“I do not know that tribe. I would know all about how you came to my home.” He leaned back against the pillows and wriggled to get comfortable. He looked happy for the first time since she came into the room.

Poor guy’s probably bored to death. Not used to staying in bed, that’s for damn sure.

“Sure, I’ll talk. What do you want to know?”

“I do beg you to tell me everything, good lady.”

“Your son—Damon?—brought me. My name’s Lois, by the way.”

“I am Sekar, Lord High King of the SandLands, Ruler of the Exalted Ranges of the OnHigh Mountains, Emperor of the Snowy Islands, Maker of the—”

“So, Sekar, yeah, nice to meet you.” She automatically stuck her hand out, then cursed herself as he just looked at it. She sort of waved at him and continued. “As to how I got here…” She started to talk. She was still talking when tight-lipped servants showed up with fresh nightgowns—one for her, one for the king—sheets, blankets, and food.

While the servants bustled around, changing sheets and offering her clothes, the king beckoned and Damon was instantly at his side. He started to kneel, but the king waved weakly and Damon took his hand instead. “Ho, my son, when you said you left to go a-hunting, I did not think you should enjoy so much luck!”

“Nor I, my good father.”

“And at exactly the right time, too.”

“Yes, father.”

“Right time for what?” Lois asked, but then she was hustled behind a changing divider, and being divested of her clothes. She slapped the servant’s hands away. “I can undress myself, thanks. What’s your name?”

“Zeka, my lady.”

Zeka —poor kid, what a moniker!—was a petite woman with curly blonde hair and the greenest eyes Lois had ever seen. They were the color of a newly mown lawn, and as big as quarters. She was dressed simply in a white robe—in fact, all the servants were dressed in white, draped robes; they looked like escapees from the set of Gladiator .

“Well, Zeka, whatcha got there?”

Teeny Zeka was hefting a brimming stone jug—the thing had to weigh thirty pounds!—with one arm, and pouring bluish-purple water into a large basin. A delightful perfumed scent rose from the splashing water; a cross between roses and water lilies. Suddenly Lois wanted a bath. Very badly.

“If you would be so good to hand me your soiled clothes, I will see them washed. In the meantime, if you approve you may wear this.” She held up a plan white robe.

“Sure, looks great. Thanks a lot.” Lois quickly stripped down to nothing, feeling a little awkward. She would have preferred to keep her panties, but all her clothing stank. Working quickly, she sponged herself clean with the water and rough towel Zeka provided. She turned to slip into the robe when Zeka gasped.

“You—you have many, many battle marks!”

“Uh, yeah. Also known as hideous scar tissue. Thanks for noticing— and yelling about it.” Lois knew her body wasn’t exactly a candidate for a Playboy pullout. “Jeez, calm down, willya?”

But Zeka was already darting out of the small changing space. She heard urgent whispers and grabbed for the robe, about two seconds too late. Suddenly the divider was wrenched aside, and Damon and his brothers were standing there.

“Jesus Christ!”

“By the Great Lion,” one of the brothers whispered. “What a woman!”

The other brother reached out and touched the puckered bullet scar above her right breast. She smacked his hand away with her fist and clutched the robe to her chest. “Hands off, unless you want to spit out your teeth,” she snapped. The princes’ eyebrows arched as she continued. “You guys might be comfortable walking around without any clothes on, but I’m an old-fashioned girl.”

“Things are different here,” Damon said mildly, his gaze riveted to the rope burn

on her shoulder. “Thanks for the news flash. Now buzz off so I can get dressed!” “What is it?” the king called weakly. “What is the matter?” “Nothing, father,” Damon said. “Our visitor is simply more beautiful than any of us

had imagined.”

“Lord, what has that boy been smoking?” she muttered. One of the brothers edged forward, staring at the knife scar near her belly button, but she kicked out at him, effectively herding him back. The other brother laughed. “Get lost. Go find some other woman to ogle.”

“Oooh-gull?”

“Stare at. Gape. Gawk.” 
“I must beg a lady’s pardon, but your beauty robbed us of—” 
“Yeah, yeah.” 
“—our good manners. I am Maltese, second in line to the throne of the SandLands,

Prince of the—” “Fine, I’m Lois, nice to meet you.” The other blonde—they were as alike as twins, except this one had eyes the deep

green of wet leaves, while Maltese’s eyes were the color of the sea after a winter storm.

“I am Shakal, third in line to the—” “Meetcha. You mind turning around while I put this on?” “I do mind, yes.” “I also.”

She almost grinned. They hadn’t sounded like sarcastic jerks, just honest. “Fine, I’ll turn.” She did, and heard an exhalation of breath come from someone. What now? Were they admiring the dimples on her ass? Christ!

“How did my lady come here?”

“To make a long story short, Damon gave me a ride.”

Zeka gasped. “But the Royal Family never—”

“Zeka,” Maltese said reprovingly. “What our good brother does is none of our concern…usually.”

“Forgive, my good prince.”

When she turned back, Damon was shooing his brothers away with helpful punches to their shoulders. She opened her mouth but he cupped her chin in one hand, effortlessly stifling her outburst. “I believe I requested you stay in the courtyard,” he said solemnly, but his eyes crinkled at the corners in a friendly way.

“What am I, your dog? ‘Sit, Lois. Stay.’ Shyeah! Pass. Besides, I don’t like being left by myself,” she added in a grumble.

“Then I shall endeavor to be at your side at all times.”

“Uh—that’s not exactly what I—”

“Lois! My good son!”

“Just a minute , we’re talking . Jeez, sick people, I swear to God. Now, listen, Damon, I gotta figure out about a zillion things, here, like where I’m gonna stay, and—”

“With me.”

“Uh. Okay, that’s very nice and all, but—”

“Put her in the chambers beside mine,” the king called.

Lois thought that was awfully nice of him, but the effect on Damon was dramatic: his eyes went narrow and flinty and he actually snarled, snarled , like one big pissed-off cat. Puma. Whatever.

He spun around and stalked back to the king’s bed. “What be you thinking, my good king who will be my dead king if he tries to take my prize?”

“Peace, my son. The lady needs a chamber appropriate to her station…whatever that will be. And we have agreed those rooms would suit that station, yes?”

“Uh…yes.”

“Those rooms have been empty too long. As to the other matter, I have not decided.”

“What? What does that mean? What’s everyone talking about? Can I get a translator or something? Hey, get your ass back in bed!” She walked over and gave the king a gentle push. He seized her arm with surprising strength, and Lois found herself pulled forward onto the king’s giant bed, with an old man who was as strong as an ox staring right into her eyes. “Listen, buster, I’m all for respecting your elders, but you’ve got about half a second to—”